Good Vibrations

I am not dancing with the black dog, or experiencing a darker shade of blue. I certainly don't have the vapours or hysteria, although the original "cure" for that one is...intriguing.

I am depressed. Was depressed. Will have been depressed, once I'm finished being depressed at this time.

This is not a brave declaration, really. It doesn't feel brave, I mean.

Mind you, smiling every day for the past 6 years has felt a bit like bravery. Actually it felt a lot like lying, but also a little like bravery.

Mostly like lying, though, to be honest.

And I got really good at it. I even started to believe that maybe I wasn't numb all the time because, look, see? I'm smiling. All the time.  

It's a commonly held belief that Humans are the only animals that bare their teeth as a sign of happiness or a gesture of good will and welcome. I suppose that might be true, although it doesn't fully explain sharks or salesmen. For me, a smile is simply something I put on every day like shoes or a jacket. It is a part of any outfit I call Dealing With The Public, so I wore it. 

I don't really like it, though.

And why DO I have to wear it, every damn day? Anyone who goes around smiling all the time, no matter what goes on in their life, is either a lair or a moron. 

And we've already established which one of those I am.

Depression, as they say, is no laughing matter. I don't know about that, because I do love a laugh. 

And historically and medically justified reasons for a stock pile of D-cell batteries.